


Beyond Imagination

by simply_kim



Series: The Master and His Masterpiece [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Childhood, Consequences, Gen, Pre-Canon, Young Erwin Smith, keeping secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simply_kim/pseuds/simply_kim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Smith fishes the small key from his pocket and puts it in Erwin’s right palm, closing the boy’s fingers around it and clasping the small fist in his hands. “I am entrusting this to you. You can read everything. We can discuss everything you’ve read, but only in here.” </p>
<p>Erwin nods determinedly, eyes hard and steadfast as if he’s a soldier going into battle. </p>
<p>“Only in here.” He repeats quietly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Imagination

  **Beyond Imagination**

* * *

 

               

There it is… his favourite.

 

Small plump hands plant firmly on pages yellow with age, his breath hitching as he takes in detail upon detail of his beloved creature with characteristic glee. It is an animal – or so the caption says, a monstrous being, a creature larger beyond belief. It lives and breathes a different air, frolics in a different field, sings a different song, converses in a different language.

 

With a flourish, he closes the old book and sits back in his father’s plush armchair, eyes closing in their own volition as imagined sensations assault his senses; the coolness of the wind on his face, the scorching hot sand sifting between his toes, the glorious sound of erupting mountains, the bubbling rivers of fire… the wetness of what is called the ‘ocean’, and the orchestral singing of his favourite animal.

 

He imagines it gigantic and blue, spotted with white and lazily drifting toward him. He imagines its face breaking into a welcoming smile, kind eyes gazing at him with so much pride and joy for being able to establish a connection where others have failed. In his mind, its voice is deep and booming, enveloping him in a blanket of solid warmth – a barrier of safety from the evils and perils of his known world. He wonders at times whether it is as big as the titans outside the Wall Maria or maybe even bigger. He wonders if it would be able to crush the walls and liberate mankind from its stone confines.

 

He wonders anxiously if they would even be friends.

 

The corners of his lips turn down as he opens his eyes. _Would we even be friends?_ He muses. He is knowledgeable enough about the world so as not to seem boring. Still, considering the vast world that lay on the other side of Wall Maria (that is, according to the books); the whale would have more stories to tell. _What if it gets bored of me?_ He thinks in horror. _What if I’m not interesting enough?_

 

With a sigh, he shakily holds out the heavy hardbound book in front of him. His slender arms couldn’t hold it for long and he ends up resting the bottom side on his knees. He frowns, eyes glassy as he stares at its colourful painted cover. _What if…_

“Erwin.”

Startled, he turns to the living room doorway, losing his grip on the book and hearing a loud thud when it falls onto the carpeted floor. “Father!” He gasps, scrambling to slide out of his seat and kick it under the chair.

 

“You’ve managed to find it again, I see.” Erwin’s father sighs, shaking his head. The older man’s lips twitch in a semblance of a smile as he watches his young son fidget and twiddle his thumbs. He swears the boy had some secret investigative powers. He was careful when placing banned tomes in hidden compartments throughout their home, but Erwin always finds them. He knows that if the boy found one, the others’ hiding places have already been located as well.

 

                Erwin looks down guiltily, widening his eyes in an effort to contain burgeoning tears of remorse. “I… heard it calling.” He mumbles.

 

                Mr. Smith raises his brows in surprise. “It called you?” He asks gently, shuffling forward and kneeling before his son, eyes searching the boy’s face for any sign of pretence. He finds none. A small smile hovers on his lips as he watches Erwin look up at him with big blue irises, pupils dilated, darkening his gaze as if it holds numerous secrets one could practically drown in them. For a fleeting moment, he thinks he sees the bright spark of his late wife in his son’s eyes, and his heart throbs painfully in memory. He does not know what to feel, considering the circumstances surrounding her death five years after Erwin was born. He blinks back the tears threatening to overflow, and smiles gently… encouragingly.

 

                Tilting his head slightly to the side, Erwin nods empathically. His eyes search his father’s face for any sign of ridicule. He finds none. “It was singing my name.” He reveals, face bright with wonder. “’Erwi~n!’ it said… I followed the song and found it.”

 

He gets down on all fours and fishes the heavy book underneath his father’s chair. With a strong heave, he stands up and lovingly gathers it to his chest. He inhales the smell of old parchment and smiles dreamily. “Father, do you think I could ever swim with a whale? Do you think I could ever see the ocean?”

 

His father gazes at him thoughtfully, his eyes misty. “You sound just like your mother.” He murmurs, scooping Erwin in his arms as he gets up. With a soft grunt, he plopped onto his chair and settles his son on his lap, hugging him close. He looks down and sees the boy looking up at him curiously.

 

“Mother? Really?”

 

He nods, nudging Erwin’s hair with his nose. “Your mother, she’s loves the whale too. She once told me that she often dreamed of swimming with it in the ocean.” He smiles in memory. “Just like you, she was a very curious person – and prone to unusual fantasies.”

 

Erwin’s eyes widens in awe, and with a bright grin, he tightens his arms around the book as if he could somehow physically keep it in his heart. “You know, father…” He muses softly. “… There may come a time when it won’t be a dream anymore. Don’t you think so?” He feels his father’s arms stiffen before squeezing around him further. He hears him sigh and knows that he is somehow treading on unchartered territory. His father is a liberal-minded man and he knows it, however, he also knows how protective he can be.

 

This seemingly slight response is proof enough that he shouldn’t pry. He is about to steer the topic back to the whale and the ocean when his father unexpectedly answers his question. “I do.” It is startling, and his head snaps up, shocked gaze meeting his father’s calm one.

 

“Y-You do?”

 

Mr. Smith nods solemnly. “I do.” Carefully, he lifts Erwin off his lap and sets him on the floor. With a heavy sigh, he stands up and motions for his son to come with him. Intrigued, Erwin follows him until they stopped in front of his mother’s powder room.

 

His breath catches in his throat, and he sends a panicked look at his father, his fingers clutching desperately at the book of his precious whale as if has become his source of strength. He has never been able to set foot in it since his mother died. He couldn’t even remember what it looks like. “F-Father…” He starts warily as Mr. Smith opens the locked door and enters, bidding him to do the same.

 

Erwin swallows nervously, and takes a tentative step inside. He recoils almost instantly as he smelled the musty odour of a long-uninhabited room. The dust has already settled and he breathes shallowly, trying hard not to let the particles permeate his lungs. Careful not to disturb anything, he looks around. The room is white and windowless. He spies another door which he knows from its direction, is a connecting doorway to his parents’ bedroom. He notes the shiny doorknob and realizes that his father has been coming and going into the powder room all this time, but, due to the obvious lack of cleaning, does not stay long. He sees a crystal bottle half-filled with rosy liquid. The shape is fascinating, and he knows what it is. He has a strong urge to sniff, but he knows the dust will make it impossible for him to take a good whiff. Still, he reaches out with the intent to touch it, maybe even take it, but his father’s quiet hum prevents him from doing so.

 

He turns to Mr. Smith and his lips parts in shock. There is a barely-noticeable trap door on the left side of the tall covered mirror, previously covered by a pink rug. His breath hitches in his throat as his father takes a small skeleton key from behind the mirror and slips it into a slightly indented keyhole on the floor. Mr. Smith slides the door open with an easy tug, revealing the first steps on top of a flight of stairs leading down. _A basement._ Erwin recognized. _We have a basement._

 

“Erwin.”

 

He gapes at him, snapping his mouth close as his father motions for him to follow. Scurrying after him, he takes careful steps, eyes adjusting to the darkness as he descends. When his foot is off the last step, there is a sudden explosion of light, making him squeeze his eyes close. He holds the book before his face as protection, and a small noise of distress escapes his throat. He hears his father chuckle, prompting him to lower it and blink rapidly. It takes a few moments before the bright spots stop their assault on his sight, and soon, he is gasping in surprise at his surroundings.

 

“A library!” He exclaims, wincing as it echoes inside the spacious chamber. It is not a big room, but there are shelves filled with books and a small table with three chairs in the middle. It seems the room has been kept clean all this time, and unlike the powder room above, there is no visible sheen of dust. “We have another library.” He says, quieter this time.

 

Mr. Smith nods with a smile. “That we have.” He steps back and surveys the shelves, and Erwin follows his gaze, noticing the areas where books were obviously pulled out. He realizes belatedly that the books he keeps searching for around the house come from the very shelves standing proudly in front of him. “These books had been banned as long as I can remember.”

 

Erwin nods. “Just like this one… and the others.” He murmured, hugging it close.

 

“Yes.” Mr. Smith allows with a small smile. He moves over to where his son stands and kneels down, peering into his eyes. “This place is very important to me and your mother. This has been our secret since we were children, now this is our secret too, alright?”

 

The boy’s eyebrows narrow as if contemplating his father’s words, and after a few moments, he nods his agreement. “Alright.”

 

There is determination in his eyes, something Mr. Smith finds endearing. He really does take after his mother. He takes the book from Erwin’s arms and reaches out to set it on the edge of a chair. He fishes the small key from his pocket and puts it in Erwin’s right palm, closing the boy’s fingers around it and clasping the small fist in his hands. “I am entrusting this to you. You can read everything. We can discuss everything you’ve read, but only in here.”

 

Erwin nods determinedly, eyes hard and steadfast as if he’s a soldier going into battle.

 

“Only in here.” He repeats quietly.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

                “Teacher… If humans came from all over, why do we only have one history?”

 

                The entire class is silent as he raised his question. For years, he has been reading and memorizing histories from before humans lived inside the walls. The basement library, although full of books found nowhere inside the walls, could not quench his thirst for knowledge, nor answer the question niggling in the back of his mind.

 

                Perhaps it is impatience in his part, which is why things seem so muddled in his mind. He couldn’t grasp the historical timeline before and after the establishment of the walls. It does not make sense. How could humans only have one history? Even in the event that humans did not have time to bring any printed history when they migrated, shouldn’t they have at least passed them on orally – or written books themselves?

 

                Some of his classmates are staring at him incredulously, and some are thoughtful. He knows it’s a provocative question, but he couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t keep it in. His father stares back at him in shock, eyes wide and bulging as if he has done something horrible.

 

                **_“… We can discuss everything you’ve read, but only in here.”_**

 

                Erwin’s gaze wavers, watching his father compose himself and prepare to answer his query. Mr. Smith has no sooner opened his mouth when he stops, eyes flicking at something behind Erwin, and takes a deep cleansing breath. “We will continue our discussion tomorrow.” He motions for his students to stand up. “Do not forget to read the next chapter. You will be having a short examination.”

 

                There is a collective groan as the class grudgingly agreed, bidding their teacher goodbye. As the last student filed out after thoughtfully leaving a slightly bruised apple on Mr. Smith’s desk, Erwin slowly packs his things and cautiously walks toward his father, tooled leather bag in hand. He stands before him with eyes downcast and shoulders hunched over with guilt. He has broken his father’s trust and it is unforgivable after he readily gave his word. No matter how many years has passed.

 

                “Erwin.” He flinches at his father’s quiet but steely tone. For a few moments, he stands there, awaiting his judgment. It is not as if Mr. Smith believes in corporal punishment, but this is not something ordinary and Erwin knows it. He knows there is something that his father is beholden to, but for the life of him, he does not understand why. Questions are there for a reason – to learn the truth.

 

His brows furrow.

 

“Father…” He finally musters the courage to break the awkward silence, but halts when Mr. Smith gives him a bone-crushing hug. “F-father…?” He stammers in surprise.

 

Mr. Smith buries his nose in his son’s hair, taking a deep breath, and closing his eyes. “Don’t do that again, Erwin.” He murmurs softly. “I specifically said to limit such conversations at home – I don’t want you to get into trouble too.”

 

_Too?_ His brows furrow further in confusion.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

                Of course he couldn’t keep it to himself.

 

                He knows children around his age tend to think of him as a peculiar person, so he ends up blabbing about what he knows to others when they start calling him ‘Crazy Eyebrows’. Chalk it up to childishness, but being an only child entitles him to acquiring a proclivity to scathing-yet-factual comebacks.

 

                After each retort, he finds himself remembering his father’s warning that day in the classroom. Still, the fact that nothing irregular has happened despite the regularity of his prompt and reckless assertions to both fellow students and their sneering adult relatives made him bolder.

 

                Foolishly bolder.

 

                “Where the hell did you ever get that idea?” A soldier asks with a disbelieving snort. “The books say otherwise. You’re dreaming, boy.”

 

                “IT’S TRUE!” He spits out indignantly. “I read it in a book! In different books! We’re being taught wrongly!”

 

                There is a short moment of silence before the group of military police officers guffaw uncontrollably, holding their stomachs and doubling over as if they can’t get over their mirth over his ideas. Brows furrowing and face slowly turning crimson in anger and embarrassment, he huffs and stomps away, muttering his displeasure on being treated like a common imbecile.

 

                He pays the event no mind.

 

                Until the police came knocking on their door a week later.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

                Erwin cocks his head to one side as his father closes their front door after finishing his talk with the police. “What did they want, father?” He asks, curious.

 

                An unreadable look flashes across Mr. Smith’s face before a warm smile touches his lips. He bounds forward, enveloping him in a warm loving hug. His confusion fades as his father’s comforting arms wraps around him. He feels his lips nuzzling his hair, and at some point, he swears the older man trembled. He does not understand, but it is calming enough that he hugs back with a soft giggle.

 

                “Father, I can’t breathe!” He grins, prying himself away as gently as he could. Mr. Smith relents, placing steady hands on his shoulder, patting them strongly twice before gazing at him with so much affection he feels his heart squeeze painfully.

 

Erwin has never seen his father quite like this before, but it makes him feel closer to him than ever before, therefore he has no reason to complain.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

                The weekend comes and his father places him under his grandmother’s care. Mr. Smith is going to a trip out of Mitras for scholarly purposes it seems. He gathers that the journey is something of a special case since he is being escorted by Military Police.

 

                He looks up proudly at his father, grinning widely that he feels like his face would split. He closes his eyes as the older man places a warm hand on his head tenderly, ruffling his hair in the process. With a deep breath, his blue eyes snap open, widening at the kind expression his father is wearing. “Father?” He murmurs contentedly. “Be safe… and please come back with more books!”

 

                Mr. Smith nods in acquiescence. “Of course.” He assures him. “As many as I can carry.”

 

                Erwin laughs, nodding imperceptively. “Yes please!”

 

                The older man chuckles, shaking his head. “In exchange, Erwin, take care of your grandmother for me… and take care of yourself. Be strong – you’re a big boy now.”

 

                He wonders why his father chose to speak those words. It feels so burdensome.

 

It feels so final.

 

Deciding to keep his father free from worries so he could concentrate on his work, he nods reassuringly. “I will, father. I promise.”

With one last tight hug, Mr. Smith departed. He does not turn back and his shoulders seem rigid. A tinge of worry enters Erwin’s psyche, but he shakes it off.

 

_No. Everything’s fine._

 

Erwin raises a hand goodbye despite his father’s inattention.

 

  _Everything’s going to be fine._

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

A month later, he recognizes that moment as the last time he would ever lay eyes on his father alive.

 

 

* * *

 

**ENDE**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Shingeki no Kyojin is Isayama Hajime’s masterpiece. I have no legal claim over any of its characters, regular or recurring. This is a completely fan-made, non-profit storytelling endeavour based on the anime and manga series, written mainly for the sake of my own happiness, and those of people who share similar interests. 
> 
> Note/s: This is the first time I'm writing for this series, and I'm focusing on the character I fell in love with since it started. This is my tribute to the man who has given me so much joy in the past few years. Tags will change as parts of the series are uploaded.


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